Read Online The Fate of Princes by Paul Doherty - Free Book Online Page B

bearing the silver-white dog of the Lovells. I teased Anne for being a spendthrift but she only laughed all the more, claiming she had bought most of the materials before I left Minster Lovell. She had kept them hidden, wanting to surprise me.
    We spent days walking in the huge garden which lies at the back of the manor, sitting on the bank of the Windrush, the fragrance of white lilies, marjoram and wine-dark roses as sweet as any perfume about us. Other times I helped her in the herb garden. She taught me the difference between lavender, hyssop, pennyroyal, camomile and other sweet-smelling flowers and herbs. At night, long banquets with only the two of us as guests, as we ate young porpoise, salted hart, lampreys, quails, venison pastries, baked quinces and goblet after goblet of different wines. She would tease me all the time, especially with riddles. Now, seated near the great hall where she and I loved and kissed, I can almost hear her voice, bubbling with laughter, calling out her favourite riddle:
    A pot I have
    It is rounded like a pear.
    Moist in the middle,
    Surrounded with hair.
    And often it happens
    That water flows there.
    She would not tell me the answer, but now, the tears wet on my cheeks, I smile for I knew she referred to the eye.
    I had not told Anne about the King’s task. I did notwish to trouble her with the sludge and filth of the Court, but at times her gaiety was brittle. I would catch her looking at me, carefully, guardedly. I would smile and she would chatter on about her father, Lord Fitzhugh, or the business and affairs of her sisters. One night as we lay beneath the red-gold canopy of the bed, she turned, stroking my face, and asked:
    ‘Francis, I know there is something wrong.’ She propped herself up on her elbow. ‘It is the King,’ she said, looking down at me. ‘I have heard the rumours and gossip, Francis,’ she continued. ‘Men plot and conspire constantly against him. I do not worry about Richard, but should he fall he will take you with him.’
    ‘Yet the King has raised me up,’ I replied. ‘Our family emblem is a dog, but one which hunts, not runs at the slightest sign of danger,’ and, gathering her into my arms, I refused to talk any further.
    The following day I prepared to leave, discussing with Anne the different accounts of the manor and our other holdings in Yorkshire and Nottingham. I refused to fix a date for my return. I remembered our conversation the previous evening and gave her strict instructions that if things went untoward, she was to flee Minster Lovell and seek sanctuary with her father. Once I knew she had left the hall on some errand or other, I went to my secret chamber built behind the great fireplace. My father had devised this place when rebuilding the hall, a small room behind the great hearth where I kept a number of valuables, private papers and documents. There, in a coffer, I placed the memoranda I had drawn up in London about the King’s secret task.
    I left Minster Lovell late that same afternoon and, accompanied by my retainers, travelled to the King at Pontefract where he was preparing for his great entrance into the city of York. His Grace’s love of York was well-known and he looked forward to his visits asany child does to a mummer’s play at Christmas. He was too busy and excited to converse with me. His wife, Anne (the young Neville heiress), and his only son, Edward, had also joined him but when I saw these I secretly despaired. The Queen was thin, emaciated, her once rounded face was white, almost sallow and she was constantly racked by convulsive fits of coughing. The young prince was no better; a pale shadow of his father, he was weak, listless, and had to be conveyed everywhere in a specially constructed horse-litter. There were others of the Court present: William Catesby, Sir Richard Ratcliffe and Sir James Tyrrell. The latter looked at me strangely and I suspected the smiles on their fox-like faces hid a deep curiosity